Tuesday, November 30, 2010

A long time ago on Vashon Island, someone parked a bike next to a small sapling and forgot about it. Eventually, the tree grew around the tree and subsumed it. Of course, we needed to see this marvel of nature. And I needed to write a song about it.

I understand what this expression means, but I'm still mystified about its origins. I mean, it sounds like nonsense, right? But, when it's used in the right context, I love it. Like Ned Plimpton does in The Life Aquatic. I couldn't find a clip, but go see the movie if you haven't already. That's where the title came from. Seu Jorge is an integral part of that film, and I think the overall sound of this piece is reminiscent of his stuff (with a little Iron and Wine thrown in for good measure). One of my favorite patchworks of sound from the year. Link.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

This song was played on a guitar made of a shoebox, paper towel roll, and rubber bands. (Musical instrument crafts for kids! That end up being way harder to execute than you thought! So that you're basically just making it for them rather than showing them how it's done! How do I get out of these parentheses!) Notice the Eddie Van Halen stripes on it. I don't think the kids appreciated the reference.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

During the course of the Intiman show (Abe Lincolin in Illinois), I came to memorize large sections of the text. (I was onstage for about 80% of the show. I played music for about 10% of it.) The language was very colloquial, and bits of this antiquated dialogue would get stuck in my head.

I got the idea to record a bit of dialogue from every member of the cast - just a word or a catch phrase, if they happened to have one. (The only exception was Langston, who played fiddle during the show, so it made sense record a sample of his playing.) The idea was to make a sort of aleatory piece, a la The Books, something that incorporated these bits of text into a musical form. One of the young actors in the show, Hannah, speaks a line as Abe's son, asking him about the medicine used to treat a sick child. I discovered that the way she said the line had a very distinct melody. That's how it all started out. Throw in a dance beat, and it pretty much writes itself.

I don't expect it to make much sense to anyone not involved with the show, but for me, it's hilarious and awesome. Thanks to the cast for making this weird piece happen.

The drone in this song was inspired by listening to a shorted-out streetlight while waiting for a ride home. When I first noticed it, it was annoying, but then I listened closer and realized that there was a very strong fundamental pitch underneath all of the electric growling. I recorded a snippet on my crappy cellphone, enough to get the feel of it and determine what the actual note was (B). The actual drone in the piece was a looped accordion note that was bitcrushed by Garageband. The build of the piece is really striking to me, and clocking in at over 6 minutes, wins the award for the longest piece of the year.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Thanks to Russell Hodgkinson for the inspiration for this song, provided backstage during performances of Abe Lincoln In Illinois. I think his version is much better, but I believe it may be lost in the mists of time.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Clearly I was having a rough day. Burning the candle at both ends, doing 9 performances a week at the Intiman, working during the day, and trying to write a song every day. Rough stuff. Sometimes the best you can do is to complain about what you don't want to do, and then do it anyway. Link.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Very rarely do I write songs with any form of social commentary; I'm not a good enough lyricist to pull it off without sounding too preachy. This song approaches social commentary, but it's more of an observation of an archetype than a comment on the homeless. Uh, what did I just write? Just listen to the song. Link.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Monday, November 1, 2010

This time of year is pretty trying on me, so it's only natural that I should write possibly the saddest song I've ever written. Totally fictional, thankfully, but it still gives me chills listening to it. Thanks to David for the use of his mountain dulcimer in this song - it definitely adds to the melancholy. Link.

I think I'd been listening to a little too much Radiohead (if that's possible). Still, garagebandy drum beat aside, this turned out pretty cool. I distinctly remember recording this at the dining room table; I have no idea why. Link.

Here's a song where I claim not to believe in immortality. Of course, I am writing this blog that will sit out in cyberspace for the foreseeable future, and I am also having a child soon, so I guess I want to believe in it just a little. This song turned out nicely. Link

Nihilistically optimistic. Makes you want to light stuff on fire while singing it. I actually had a short firebug period as a kid. No one got hurt. Except for the ants under the magnifying glass. Link.